


The Loneliest Side

by thishartofmine



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Met on the Ark, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishartofmine/pseuds/thishartofmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to get your sister out of the Skybox.”</p>
<p>Bellamy nearly chokes on his beans. Clarke Griffin just stares back at him as if this is a perfectly reasonable thing for her to say to him.</p>
<p>(BSV 2016)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loneliest Side

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction in maybe 5 or 6 years. Concrit is especially welcome. 
> 
> Come follow me on [tumblr](http://hart-and-friar.tumblr.com).

_We’ll hate what we’ve lost,  
But we’ll love what we find,  
And I’m feeling fine._

*

Bellamy knows who Clarke Griffin is before she ever approaches him. Of course he does; everyone knows the Griffins and everyone knows the Jahas. They’re the Ark’s answer to monarchy.

He’s never actually spoken to her, but he knows the basics. Mother on the council, father’s an engineer, Alpha station, eighteen. A year older than his sister, nearly to the week. Clarke will be nineteen in three months.

The first thought he has about her is that she’s short. Like five five, max. He thought she’d be taller. Literature always makes it seem like rich people were tall. She’s also looking directly at him, which is weird, too. The chancellor’s son is shadowing her.

“Hello, Mr. Blake,” she says, sitting down across from him in the canteen. He’d wonder how she got clearance to enter the room, it’s not like she eats at Factory Station regularly, but again, she’s Clarke Griffin. She could probably eat in the council chambers if it took her fancy.

“Hey.” He’s never claimed to be competent in social situations. She’s got the same meal as him, basic bean mixture and carrots. Wells Jaha sits down beside her.

“My name is Clarke, this is my friend, Wells.” She says it like that might actually be news to Bellamy. She’s smiling, too – and not in that weird, political way her mother does, but wide and open. Jaha waves without looking up at him and promptly begins to shovel the beans into his mouth. If they taste any worse than the rations on Alpha, he doesn’t show it.

“I know who you are.” He also knows their parents voted to put his sister in the box and to float his mother. They kicked him out of training, demoted him down to janitor.

“Okay, yeah.” This smile is less bright, apologetic even. She looks sheepish. “You probably hate our parents.”

He glances at Jaha, who’s still not looking at anything but his food, and eating it at an alarming rate.

Bellamy shrugs one shoulder, takes a bite of his own carrots. “Would you blame me?”

Clarke’s whole face lights up and she lets out a bright peal of laughter. Several people from the tables surrounding theirs look over. Some openly stare. Everyone in Factory knows the Blakes, the same way they know the Griffins and the Jahas.

“Not even a little,” she grants. She’s got a tablet with her, which she swipes at, pulling up a file. It’s one of the newer ones, too. Shiny, and the screen isn’t scratched up or it’s been replaced recently. “I want to get your sister out of the Skybox.”

He nearly chokes on his beans. Clarke Griffin just stares back at him as if this is a perfectly normal, reasonable thing for her to say to him. Octavia’s lockup picture is staring up at him across the table from the screen. Her eyes are wild, she looks afraid. She looks like his baby sister. They only allow visits twice a year and the last time he went, they told him she’d been denied privileges. Locked up in isolation for an infraction they wouldn’t tell him about. He hasn’t seen her in _months_.

He must be silent for a moment too long because Clarke clears her throat.

“She’s got a little under three months before her trial. It’s obviously unprecedented. There are no laws for this and they can only make pre-emptive ones in the meantime, nothing that’ll apply to Octavia,” she takes a breath, flips to another screen. There’s a lot of notes typed out, research. “It’ll go one of two ways. The first, the best, they understand that she’s innocent and they let her go. Or, they want to make a point, show that they won’t tolerate second children. They float her.” He feels his jaw work. He’s been thinking about that possibility for almost two years, since they were caught at the dance, since he watched them float his Mom. His hands curl into fists under the table.

“I want to make sure that doesn’t happen.” She’s more earnest, too, than her mother, but the same determination, staring at him with a hopeful smile.

He glances at Wells, who has finally looked up. He raises a shoulder and drops it again.

“Clarke likes projects,” he tells Bellamy, rolling his eyes.

“My sister’s life isn’t a _project_ ,” he practically growls it, his voice harsh, and he can feel people looking at them again. Jaha seems taken aback, puts his fork down and turns to Clarke. She shoots him a quick look, but mostly keeps her attention on Bellamy. His sister is back up on her screen.

“We know that. I want to help Octavia, Mr. Blake,” she bites her lip, looks at the screen and back at him. “We _both_ want to help her. I get that she’s your sister, but she’s also a person, and innocent. Other people can, and do, care about that. Your mother is gone. I think that’s penance enough for everybody.”

She’s still staring at him, food untouched, and he feels something twist in his gut. No one else, not even their mother, really, has every cared about Octavia’s life. Not the way he does. No one else seemed to care when they locked her up. Bellamy’s just been hoping for the best and assuming the worse, grappling for every last second with his sister.

He doesn’t know if hope is going to make it easier or harder if he loses her anyway.

Clarke is looking at him, fierce and unflinching. She’s got all the qualities of an Alpha princess, only she’s sitting in Factory, asking him to let her help Octavia.

He takes a deep breath.

“You should call me Bellamy,” he says.

She blinks. “What?”

“If you’re going to do this, call me Bellamy. Mr. Blake makes me sound like an old man.”

“Aren’t you like, what, 23?”

“24,” he corrects.

“See,” she grins. “You are old.” He manages a smile and Jaha snorts from beside her, mouth full again.

“Bellamy.” She nods and his name sounds new in her voice. He thinks his sister was probably the last person to say it, when he visited nearly year ago. To everyone else, he’s just Blake – or worse, Janitor.

They’re quite for a moment, before he gestures to the tablet with his fork.

“Can I take a look?” If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. She pushes it across the table and he turns it so Octavia is facing him. She looks older in this picture; they may have taken it when she was sent to solitary. Her bangs are grown out and her face looks tougher. He can see so much of their Mom in her, but little bits of himself too, mostly in the set of her jaw. She’s staring hard at the camera, angry.

He loves her.

Jaha makes an unintelligible noise and when Bellamy looks back up at them, Clarke is glaring at him while he eats. She stays that way for about three seconds before turning and starting on her own food. They eat the rest of their lunch in silence and Clarke stays for five minutes afterwards, letting Bellamy stare at the tablet.

*

It’s a coincidence that Bellamy Blake is so attractive. It had nothing to do with Clarke choosing to pursue Octavia’s case. She’s helping free an innocent girl whose brother happens to be objectively aesthetically pleasing – it’s like a fringe benefit.

“You want to bone her brother.” Wells thinks otherwise. He thinks Bellamy is subjectively very, very attractive, when Clarke is the subject in question.

“I do not. I want Octavia out of the Skybox before her case ever goes before the council for consideration.”

“And to have hot celebration sex with her brother. Or hate sex. Or commiseration sex? Whichever is applicable to the situation.” They’re watching a vid in her apartment while her parents eat at Wells’ place with his father and other council members and Ark officers. Clarke wanted to invite Bellamy, but she didn’t think he’d show up. He seemed reluctant enough to even talk to them in the first place

“We’re _not_ having commiseration sex,” she says, frowning at him. It’s been nearly a week, she’s barely seen Wells, between her research on Octavia’s case and shadowing her mother and Jackson for rounds.

His grin is wicked. “But you are having sex.”

“It’s not about that,” she insists, looking resolutely at the movie and hoping that Wells doesn’t notice the colour in her cheeks. He probably does. He’s annoying like that.

It’s an old football game, the half-time show, which is an incredibly choreographed medley from three performers. They wouldn’t even have the floor space for it on the Ark, forgetting the grass and the _air_.

“His sister doesn’t deserve to die because her mother didn’t report the failed implant. It’s not her fault.”

Wells makes a completely sarcastic sound of agreement from beside her.

“Oh yeah,” he says, drawing out the syllables. “You’re definitely not following him around because of that jaw, or his hair, or those _arms_.” He’s grinning at her, practically sniggering while she resolutely ignores him, when Raven Reyes bursts through the door.

“Please don’t tell me you’re fucking around with Bellamy Blake.” Clarke knows Raven through Wells, which means they’ve spoken four times and Wells has a huge, obvious crush on her. Clarke can’t really blame him; Raven is gorgeous and intelligent and wild, nothing like the girls Thelonious wants him to marry. She’d totally be Clarke’s type if she wasn’t so busy with Octavia’s case.

“I’m not?” Raven’s boyfriend also tried to hit on Clarke once, while he was still her boyfriend, so that was weird, too. Clarke thinks it freaked Raven out about her a bit.

“You sure?” Her hands are on her hips and she’s definitely going to get Clarke’s Dad’s job, or more, when she’s older. She doubts anyone’s ever been brave enough to say no to Raven.

“Yes,” she says. She moves over on the sofa, so there’s more room between her and Wells. “I want to help Octavia. Sit down and have some popcorn.”

Raven eyes her, unsure. Clarke holds up the bowl to her. Abby popped it for them before Clarke could stop her. She thinks it’s a waste – it’s unfair that they have so much _extra_ when kids like Bellamy and Raven grew up hungry on the other stations.

Still, it’s made and it’ll go bad if they don’t eat it. Raven takes a small handful, sitting down between them. She chews, contemplative, and Clarke knows she’s never had any before.

“What’re we watching?” She’s never seen a game either, apparently.

“The Super Bowl,” Wells answers, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table. He probably thinks he looks cool, which he definitely doesn’t. Raven nods, and focuses on the projection.

“If you’re serious about his sister, you should still fuck him after,” Raven says out of nowhere, a few minutes later. “I did once, I would recommend.”

There’s a beat afterwards that’s that horrible, sticky kind of awkward.

Then Wells says, “Plus, those _arms_ ,” in a horrible drawling accent and Raven bursts out laughing.

Clarke throws a handful of popcorn at his head and mostly misses.  

*

Clarke takes to following him around on his shift, when  she can, holding the tablet and _chatting_. At first, it was mostly about Octavia – what kind of person was she, her likes, her talents. She’d seemed genuinely interested. Besides, Raven, a friendly ex hook up from Mecha Station, told him she was his best chance at getting his sister out alive. Raven’s a smart girl, he’s not going to ignore her advice.

As the weeks pass, the conservation segues into other topics: their mother, his interests, his time in the guards. Sometimes she asks about Raven, about Miller, a guard who trained alongside Bellamy who he’s still on good terms with, and his friends from school. Most of the time she’s with him for some part of his eight hours, shadowing him through the halls of the Ark, sometimes wiping down surfaces when she runs out of things to say. She reminds him of his sister, in a weird way.

He knows she’s training to be a doctor, shadowing her mother as well as researching his sister’s case. She never seems tired.

“When do you sleep?” he asked her one of the first days, and she only grinned at him, tying her hair up and typing in her passcode.

In other ways, she absolutely does not remind him of his sister. One evening, about six weeks after she first approached him with Jaha in the canteen, she finds him in a rec room in Alpha Station. There’s a concert being performed on the viewing deck for all the higher ups and their families, so it’s quiet, just the hum of lights and the quite whirling of the venting system. He’s enjoying it, for once. It’s nice when there’s no one around. He assumes Clarke won’t show up – her mother is about as high up as you can get.

Then she shows up wearing a gorgeous dress, long and sparkling, the type of thing from vids he’d watched in class when they were kids. It’s got a plunging neckline and some of her hair’s swept up off her neck and she is decidedly _not_ his sister. Most of the time she wears her scrubs when she meets him and he normally doesn’t feel that bad about his nasty, second hand overalls. He suddenly feels itchy, dirty, with his janitor name tag and mop. She looks flawless.

“Sorry,” she breathes, reaching down to tug off her heels. He really tries to avert his eyes from her cleavage, he does, but – he’s only human. It’s not like he has a girlfriend. Illegally hiding your sister from the guards for sixteen years is apparently not an attractive quality for most girls.

Plus, she’s got really nice cleavage.

Clarke straightens, pulling at her dress to straighten it and smiling at him widely. She’s got red lipstick on and it’s applied impeccably.

She’s probably not good for his health.

“I tried to get away, but it ran on _forever_. I think my mother was trying to set me up with her friend’s daughter and she’s so _boring_. Wants to be on the council. Is basically my mother.”

She hikes up her dress, pops up onto a table, grinning at him.

“Sounds fun.”

“It wasn’t.”

She grins at him, rummaging in her bag to take out her tablet and immediately starts typing. Her hair falls over her face. She really is unfairly pretty. She looks like every dream he’s never allowed himself to have.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm,” she doesn’t look up, frowning at the screen.

“Why’d you decide to help O?” she looks up then, surprised. “You’re training to be a doctor. You don’t care about politics or law. That’s more Wells Jaha than you.”

She looks away after a second, at her hands.

“We do a short rotation in the Skybox, when we start our training. That’s just general check-up, you know. Medical health assessments.” He straightens. She fidgets.

“I met Octavia on my first round. I didn’t talk to her or anything, I was just observing, but I knew who she was,” she sighs, offers him a half smile without meeting his eyes. “I looked into it, I was curious. I’d never even thought about – about you and what it must be like to lose your Mom and your sister. It would be unfair to float Octavia for being born, but I don’t think it’s fair to you either. You spent your whole life hiding this secret so you could keep Octavia and your mother safe.” She fingers a loose thread on her dress. “People listen to me because my Mom is who she is. It’s stupid and it shouldn’t be that way. But, um, I thought I could help.” Her cheeks are tinting a little red, embarrassed. She’s both incredibly gorgeous and adorably earnest at the same time. It’s a little unfair.

“Oh.”  He can’t really think of anything else to say – or, anything he wants to say, he can’t say right now, because they’ve still got his sister to save and she’s going to be _something_ and he’s a janitor.

“Thanks,” he says instead. She looks at him then and seems to deflate a little, somehow disappointed. She doesn’t say anything though, just shrugs one shoulder, so he has to divert his eyes from her collarbones.

“No problem.”

*

“He probably thinks you’re stalking him,” Raven and Wells are disgustingly smug for two people who are completely failing to sort their own shit out.

“He does not. We talk about his sister and the case,” she says. “It’s practically a business meeting.”

“A business meeting?” Wells and Raven share a look, smirking. “Is that what the kids call it these days?”

“Oh, go float yourselves.”

*

Bellamy’s still got work, the night before the hearing; this is the Ark, and the greater good comes before everything else. On an intellectual, pragmatic level, he appreciates this; it makes the stations function together, it keeps people in line. Getting humans, generations from now, back to the ground involves thinking of the whole instead of the individual. It’s kept everyone alive for nearly one hundred years.

It’s also what scares him.

The greater good might make them float his sister.

He’s probably the least productive he’s ever been. Even with Clarke shadowing him for nearly six months, he still managed to get more work done than he does now. He’s alone somewhere on Mecha. Clarke hasn’t shown up and he’s two hours into his shift. He figures she’s on duty, too, or wanted to get a good night’s sleep.

It’s another forty minutes before she turns up and he’s surprised. She looks beat, her hair is scraped off her face and her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, her hands look raw, like she’s just scrubbed at her skin.

“Patient nearly bled out on the table,” she says in way of greeting, running a hand over her face. She’s probably even more devastating than she was the night of the concert. He stops mopping to watch her.

“You should go to bed.”

She glances up at him. She’s still as short and just as fierce as she was that first day.

“I’m not going to leave you alone, Bellamy.”

He feels a soft smile tug at the corner of his lips. She looks angry that he’d even suggest it and it somehow sounds like _more_.

“Okay.” He pauses, stares at her. “I’m scared.”

It’s probably the only personal information he’s offered her without a preceding question. She doesn’t seem surprised. Instead she moves over to him and takes his hand, squeezing.

“I know. Me, too.”

In the end, Clarke makes a really good case and doesn’t look the least bit afraid. She outlines all the past precedent, none of which implicates him or his sister. She gets Bellamy to stand up and make a statement. Chancellor Jaha watches her with a quiet impartiality as she talks. Her mother looks annoyed and glares at him when he’s talking. He’s got his nicest outfit on and Wells lent him a suit jacket. He still feels inferior. These people have his entire life in their hands. If they float Octavia, he’ll probably just demand they float him with her.

There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his little sister. He figures his life probably isn’t worth living if she’s gone.

When Clarke’s finished presenting all the evidence, she hands folders over to the council, clasping her hands together and glancing at him.

“Aurora Blake committed the crime. Octavia was just _born_ and she couldn’t help that,” she looks each member at the table in turn. “Bellamy loved his mother and he loves his sister. That’s not a crime. He couldn’t help that either. He’s spent his whole life looking over his shoulder to protect the people he loves. He’s lived a half-life and Octavia didn’t even get that.”

She takes a deep breath, sets her shoulders.

“Eventually, we have to draw a line in the sand and stop punishing people for Aurora’s mistake. She’s gone, floated even. I think that time should be now.”

She really is lovely.

*

The Blake siblings hold each other so tightly Clarke has to look away. Octavia’s hands hold onto the back of her brother’s shirt, the material bunching in her deft grip. She’s sobbing into his shoulder, shaking. They don’t move for minutes.

She really is gorgeous. Her hair is long and a lighter brown than Bellamy’s, and straighter. He told Clarke once that she was the image of his mother, but Clarke sees Bellamy in every moment she makes. He obviously taught her how to carry herself.

It took the council six hours – and a psychological fitness test for Octavia – to reach a 4 vote majority. Her mother assures her they’ll revaluate Bellamy’s assignment at a later time. Several members noted that Octavia was remarkably socially developed and well educated for someone who spent the majority of her life under a floor panel.

“Clearly, his talents would be more useful elsewhere,” her mother had stated, like it had nothing to do with what Bellamy deserved after everything his mother and the Ark’s justice system had put him through.

But Clarke didn’t want to get into that fight. Bellamy’s going to get a new job and nobody got floated. It’s been a good day.

“So, you finally got a girlfriend, Bell?” Octavia’s voice is deeper than she expected, all gravel. She’s still wearing her clothes from prison, but Clarke got stuff from the exchange ready for her to wear.

She feels her cheeks heat and it’s so stupid, she hasn’t blushed like this in _years_ , but – Octavia is Bellamy’s sister and there’s really no etiquette taught about this situation on the Ark.

“Oh no, I’m not–” He’s crossed the room to kiss her in about three steps and she reaches up, automatic, before he even makes it to her. He kisses her fiercely and she reciprocates, just as eager. He’s smiling against her mouth, beaming even, and he’s warm under her hands as he starts laughing. It’s the kind of childish laughter she never thought she’d hear from him, delighted laughter.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against her mouth before pulling back slightly.

She rises on her tiptoes to follow, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “That’s okay.”

“You’re my favourite person,” he informs her before she can pull back. His breath is hot on her jaw.

“Other than Octavia,” she argues and glances over his shoulder to find his sister watching them, half amused, half disgusted. She feels the heat run up her cheeks and she ducks hiding her face in his shoulder as he laughs.

“Different category. O’s my favourite family member.” She hears Octavia scoff.

“She’s your only family member.”

“How do you think she wins?” She pulls back to look at him and he’s grinning, happier than she’s ever seen him.

Later, they’re walking Octavia around the Ark after they’ve introduced her to Raven and Wells and Clarke’s other friends, as well as Miller. They’re going to hang out at the observation deck before going to see Farm Station and the best rec room on Factory. Bellamy’s going to get a bigger apartment in the next few days, one with a room for each of them. Every time he hears Octavia laugh, his whole face lights up.

They’re trailing the others, listening to Raven explain the ventilation system to a fascinated Octavia (“Bellamy was never good at the science stuff. He always wanted to talk about _history_ ”), when he pulls her back, so they’re a few steps behind. The stay like that for a few minutes; Clarke watching Bellamy watching Octavia.

“Did you want to go out with me sometime? To somewhere other than my cleaning job, obviously.” His hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck and his ears are tinging red. He looks worried, like she might actually say no.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, smirking. She laces her fingers through his and squeezes so he knows she’s teasing. It’s nice not to have to let go. “Now that we’ve got Octavia out, what are we going to talk about?”

He squeezes back, tugging her towards him and swinging his arm over her shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

*

_Wake up to the sound of your fleeting heart._

 


End file.
